Le'anthros came from a poor peasant family, uneducated and his childhood and adolescence unremarkable at best. He woke each morning, ate what food he shared with his parents and three younger siblings - how little it might be - and tilled the soils from dawn until dusk. He cannot recall exactly the name of the county where he lived all those years, only that even at midday - when the sun was at its highest point - the bone-chilling winds still stole what warmth he might have kept between his poor, almost hessian clothing.

One day however was not quite like all the others, at the age of 17 he was asked to accompany his father to market, to sell the produce of wheat which they had luckily kept from wilting in the harsh cold. As he entered the bustling nest of activity and noise, out of the corner of his eye he spotted a lone standing table, two men stood either side, straight backed in gleaming breastplate and another sat down on a lone stood. He was otherwise indistinguishable from those standing beside the table until he stood, noticeably larger than the others by a head and shoulders. Le'anthros simply stood there, entranced by the display, they simply emanated an aura of dignity, courage and adventure. The table bore on it a sign, bearing finely printed calligraphy, unable to read Le'anthros inquired as to the presentation, abandoning his father in setting the stall.

As he approached, the giant of a man extended a hand and motioned him closer. The closer Le'anthros got, the more he noticed several jutting scars across the mans face and the lack of his left ear.

"You look strong enough, come here boy!" His voice carried with it a total sense of authority, it was coarse but nonetheless inviting. "Try this!" He picked up a long bundle off the dirt ground and placed it on the table, Le'anthros noted its weight by the loud metallic chink. When the bundle was unwrapped, Le'anthros' eyes opened wide, a gleaming greatsword, almost as long as he was tall, its cruciform shape catching the light and radiating that same aura he felt from these men.

"Pick it up then! give it a swing!" immediately Le'anthros complied, it weight was enough to make him stagger until he learned to place his hand correctly along the hilt, evenly distributing the weights along his arms. Taking one practice swing in the air Le'anthros' heart beat faster than it even had before.

"This one has spirit! If only every recruit we came across had this fire in his belly!" The man then proceeded to roll open a heavy parchment scroll which lay previously unnoticed on the table. It contained the same fine printed calligraphy as the sign which he stood directly in front of.

"I...I can't read..." Le'anthros nervously bowed his head.

"Great! Last thing we needed was a scholar! We are all veteran Soldiers of his majesty the king - loyal, courageous and brave!" The man then proceeded to speak in a lower tone "If you want to join the ranks, just sign on one of these lines and we can begin your training before this day is..."

"Le'anthros!" He felt a strong hand grab him around the arm and tug him aside, it was his father. "Are you mad!? They're Soldiers they'll train you, then kill you!" with the last phrase he leered towards the large man at the table, who sat now indifferent.